Colombia – Salento

2020 FEBRUARY 8 –

We met a family from Cranbrook, BC in the Bogota airport. They were also heading to Salento and we asked if we could share a ride with them. They said their hotel was picking them up at the airport and there would not be enough room for all of us. No problem. The flight to Armenia was about an hour. On the ground we found our own taxi to take us the one hour drive to Salento. The taxi cost $37.  Did I mention that Colombia is cheap?!

Salento is a small mountain municipality of about 7200 people. 3600 of those live within the town. It is the second highest tourist destination in Colombia, after Cartagena. It used to be a main and strategic route during Bolivar’s fight for independence.  He had political prisoners sent to upgrade and maintain the road. After serving their sentence they were given a plot of land. A newer road was eventually built elsewhere, leaving Salento behind with its quaint charm. It is famous for its clean mountain air, waxy palms, coffee plantations, colourful buildings and artisan shops. Salento has 700 legal hostels, plus more not registered. 

In Salento, we had a bit of a problem finding Combi Hostel.  The taxi driver had to call to get directions. Salento is a really small mountain town, but our guest house was right on the edge of town, down a gravel road, and across from a farm. Although we had our own room, we had to share the bathroom. It had a small kitchen for everyone to share and even had a small washing machine. We had to air dry our clothes, which was not a problem since the small patio faced south. We quickly dropped our backpacks in our tiny room and headed back to the square to find something to eat.

The square was small, with tall palm trees in the centre. A statue of Bolivar raising his sword skyward was on a pedestal in the very centre. The palm trees area was encircled with vendor tents selling religious items, fresh fruit, and general souvenirs. There was a path for cars to drive one way, counter clockwise. On the outside of the driving lane were a solid perimeter of eating establishments under huge canopies. On the extreme perimeter of the square were the compulsory church and municipal building along with restaurants and shops.

The church interior was very simple, with no big elaborate altar. It was bright and very welcoming. Leading away from the square was a busy little street, Calle Real. It was crammed with colourful shops, coffee shops, and restaurants. The balconies had flowers draping over the railings. It was a beautiful scene.

There were cement benches spaced along the street for people to rest or simply to take in the ambiance. Some of the benches had a marijuana plant growing beside it. 

We headed toward Calle Real when we ran into John, Jan, and Jasmine – the family from BC. Over the next few days we seemed to run into them often and even joked that we were stalking each other. We found a cute little restaurant that overlooked a small canyon. I had the trout in mushroom sauce. Trout is on every menu throughout Colombia and is very tasty. 

Since we had a small kitchen, we found a small store and gathered up 6 eggs (sold individually), a loaf of bread, a small stick of butter, a gallon of water, and a package of wafer cookies. We got up to the counter where the young fellows rang it up to 103,000 COP – $40!!!  We left our items on the counter and walked out. A few minutes later we decided to go back and tell them to add it up again. When we entered the store we saw an older man that looked like the owner. I gathered up the same items and took them directly to him and asked how much. He graciously took us to the front and added it all up to 10,300 COP ($4). I was pissed!! I told him the boys tried to charge us 103,000.  The boys sheepishly retrieved our previous items from under the counter. There was a fast and furious conversation that went on between the man and the boys. The man then gave us a discount. Little buggers were trying to pull a fast one on the gringos, but the old man shut it down. We found a bigger supermercado the next day and proceeded to tell John and Jan to avoid the little shop. 

9 February – Sunday

We wanted to take the Cocora hiking tour, but the weather forecast was for rain in the afternoon. We didn’t want to be stuck on a trail in the rain so we opted to hang around town.  Our host, Maurico, said the streets and markets would be very busy and we should avoid them. But we really didn’t want to be on a hiking trail in the rain. We ignored his advise and headed to the square. I had read that the best coffee shop in town was Jesus Martin.  We found it and had a coffee and some cake. The coffee was merely OK and over priced. Another example of how a Lonely Planet review seems to allow the business to increase their prices. 

After the mediocre coffee I wanted to climb the 245 steps at the end of Calle Real to the lookout point, El Mirador.  Ed had no desire to climb up. We agreed to meet at a certain spot at a certain time. Up I went. There was a little kiosk selling snacks and water about every 50 steps.  At the top the view was quite obscured by tall trees and bushes. Off to the right was a rest area, with another kiosk. I took the path to the left. 

A few hundred meters along I came to the actual lookout area. It had a huge covered platform that looked over the entire valley. It was gorgeous. I was glad I was there early, as there were already lots of selfie takers hogging the best spots. There were lots of vendors selling their wares. A small park separated the lookout from a row of shops and restaurants. Off to the left was a nice paved road, gently leading back down the hill. 

I looked into nearly every shop on Calle Real while biding my time before meeting up with Ed. I bought a small bracelet, a Juan Valdez espresso cup for Ed, a coffee coaster, and a baby sweater for our unborn grandson. I met up with Ed, we had some lunch, then proceeded to show each other any cool shops we thought the other might have missed. I told him there was a decent road up to El Mirador, so we both went back for the view. By mid-afternoon the streets were packed with people. We were about done looking around so we bought some sweet mango and coconut from one of the vendors in the square and headed back to the hostel.  It never did rain. 

10 February – Monday

The weather looked good. We decided to do the Cocora Valley hike. Cocora” was the name of a Quimbayan princess, daughter of the local chief Acaime, and means “star of water” (Spanish: estrella de agua).  The valley is part of a larger National Park and was created to prevent the exploitation (mainly due to the celebrations of Palm Sunday) of the Quindio wax palm, which is the national tree of Colombia. A wide variety of other flora and fauna (some endangered) are also protected under the park’s national status.

We paid our 8000 COP ($3 CDN) for a return trip to Willy’s, the fleet of jeeps that run every half hour to and from the valley, 11km away.  Each jeep holds 8 passengers in the back, on benches. Another 2-3 that can stand on the running board behind the jeep box and hold on for dear life. We opted for a poorly padded bench in the box of the jeep. 

There are two routes to hike Cocora Valley. One is counter clockwise, the path to the right, through the blue gate.  The other, clockwise, the road straight ahead, bypassing the blue gate. We were told that the counter clockwise was hard at the start then easy at the end. We figured since it was early, before the heat of the day, and we were fresh let’s get the hard part done with first.  We went through the blue gate. A short time later we came to a check point and had to pay 4000 COP each to enter the park. 

We walked for about a half hour through fields and gently rolling hills. There were a few wax palms off in the distance, but not many. I kept thinking, “This is the hard route?” Then we left the fields behind and entered a forest. 

The path got harder. Steep. Narrow. Slippery. We had entered the Fog Forest. The prevailing westerly winds from the Pacific Ocean are stopped by the Andean mountains, creating a humid environment favorable to the growth of cloud forest at higher altitudes. We were about 2800 meters. The hike through the forest is absolutely gorgeous.  It felt like a real life Indiana Jones adventure. The lush green ferns, vines and trees were surreal with the humidity actually creating a foggy, misty effect. The trail zigzagged over the cascading river. We crossed seven rickety suspension bridges. An hour into the forest walk we found a huge rock along the river where we sat to eat the boiled eggs we had packed for our breakfast – careful to collect all of our rubbish to carry away with us. 

We made a detour to see Acaime, a hummingbird sanctuary. It was an extra half hour hike further up the mountain. We were greeted by dozens of little hummingbirds zipping back and forth between sugar feeders set up by the proprietors.  We had to pay 5000 COP ($2) but that included a bottle of cold water (or whatever other drink you might want). We watched the marvelous little birds for about 20 minutes before carrying on, back down to our designated path. It was faster going down than it was going up. 

We walked for another hour, through a pine and eucalyptus forest. It was a bit easier than the Fog Forest. At least the stones and roots on the path were dry, and not slippery. But heat and fatigue were beginning to take hold of us. We were nearing Finca La Montana. We could see people sitting on steep grassy slopes. The worst seemed to be over.  Not quite! The final stretch up to this amazing lookout point was a series of wickedly steep and frustratingly narrow switchbacks. The trench-like path was beaten into the ground so bad that it was literally a foot or more deep. It was so narrow that we had to high step (like prancing) to avoid knocking our feet together with each step. Once we finally reached the top we took a well deserved rest, had a couple more boiled eggs, and enjoyed the view. 

The road (not path or trail) gently snaked its way back down into the valley. This was the “straight ahead” road we opted not to take at the start. Apparently, a lot of people take this route to the highest point (Finca La Montana) and return the  same way. We were a bit indignant that we did not know this was an option. HOWEVER, we did get to see and experience some amazing scenery that these lazy ones missed out on. So there!! 

That being said, the road route was no picnic either.  We were hot, tired, sore, and dehydrated. Yes, we brought lots of water; but at 31°C it was just getting sweated away.  And we still had over 2 hours to go. SIDE NOTE: At 62 years old, we aren’t as spry as we used to be! But we were damn proud of ourselves. We met people half our age that didn’t even attempt the route we took. 

Anyway, about an hour later we came to our first up close view of the magnificent wax palm.  They look like something Dr. Seuss came up with. They do not grow in a cluster. They poke out of the grassy field, with no other bushes or trees around them.  Growing up to 61 metres (200 ft) tall, they look like solitary sentinels – majestically tall and straight with a plume of fronds erupting from their top and swaying ever so slightly in the breeze.  The valley beyond was still hazy with humidity. The valley looked fake. It was such a brilliant, almost fluorescent green. It was magical. We sat in admiration and awe for several minutes before carrying on. We had to pay another 4000 COP each to leave the park. 

Ed was getting really tired and anxious to reach the end, already.  I was lally-gagging along, taking pictures of flowers, trees, and anything else that caught my attention – like a Jack Russel Terrier not knowing which ball to chase. We agreed that he would just keep going and we would meet up at the bottom. 

I had read to keep an eye to the sky near the wax palms. Condors are known to be seen gliding on the thermal updrafts from the valley. The Andean condor is hard to miss. They have a maximum wingspan of 3.3 m (10 ft 10 in).  Sure enough, I spotted a few of them floating effortlessly above me. 

The road skirted around the fields of wax palms.  I asked someone to take my picture beside one. I ran about 100 meters to stand beside one so that the full height of the tree could be captured.  I eventually caught up to Ed. 

We caught a jeep back to town where we found a restaurant and ordered bandeja paisa. Red beans, white rice, ground meat, chicharon (deep fried pork rind), fried egg, plantain (patacones), chorizo (paprika pork sausage), arepa, morcilla (black pudding) , avocado and lemon. Almost all meals in Colombia are huge, but this was HUGE! 

Ed has a Fitbit so we tallied our daily energy expenditure. 23,363 steps, 10.5 miles, 193 flights of stairs, and 153 minutes of elevated heart rate. My Suunto watch recorded a 464 metre difference in elevation. It took us 7 hours. The temperature difference was 21°C in the morning to 31°C in the afternoon. 

After returning to our guest house and showering off, we were ready to call it a day and just relax. However, Mauricio asked if any of us would like a ride around town in his Combi – a Volkswagen hippy van. Ed bowed out, but several of us female guests went along.  

The van was parked in a gated parking area about 2 blocks away. On the back bumper of the van Toy Story “Buzz Lightyear” was helping “Woody” up. While Mauricio tried to start the van we girls chatted and discovered we were all from different countries. How cool is that! After about a half hour of tinkering with the motor , Maurico realized it was out of gas. Off he went to find a whiskey bottle full of gas. Once we got going he drove us through the now deserted streets of Salento.  The van had a sun roof and some of the girls stood up through it, like Prom Queen’s. It was hilarious. 

He pointed out two shops, that were once homes, that had an initial ornately carved over the door. In former times, rich people would monogram their house this way.  One of the doors was ridiculously tall. He said this was so the man of the house could ride in, on his horse, into the home courtyard. The cement benches along Calle Real were all donated by local families and had their name on a plaque on the bench. The buildings are constructed with bamboo and stuck together with a plaster made of animal dung, then painted.  The crazy coloured buildings came about only after tourists started coming. Prior to that, they were mostly white with a simple coloured trim. 

Maurico put some gas in at the petrol station and we headed back to the parking lot. We got to the lot and he stopped the van while he got out to unlock the gate. When he got back in the van would not start again. I think it was out of gas again. Either way, we all got out and pushed it into its parking stall. We all had a good laugh at the evening’s events as we walked back to the guest house. 

We decided we liked Salento, and made arrangements to stay an extra two days. We would, however, have to move from our private room to a dorm room with bunk beds.  This was not a problem because while Salento is busy with weekenders from Armenia and Pereira, but during the week it is almost a ghost town. We estimated that there were 5 times more people on the weekend. We had the dorm room to ourselves. 

11 February – Wednesday 

I decided I wanted to go to Santa Rita Waterfalls. According to Maurico, it was a simple walk, maybe 2 hours. Considering that his Airbnb listing said he’d pick us up from the airport, then he backed out on us with an excuse of there being too many police checks. And giving us vague directions to catch a bus from Armenia to Salento. “Just walk to the avenue and take a bus to the terminal. It’s just 2 blocks.” The 2 blocks was really 2.6 kilometers. I didn’t trust his simple directions or his word. 

Maybe he got tired of trying to explain it to me, or maybe he was just feeling generous; either way, he offered to give me a ride in his tuktuk to the starting point of the hike. It was a couple kilometres down the hill, by the river. He pointed the direction to go and also where the bus stops, if I didn’t feel like walking back uphill to town. 

I walked about a half hour down a very narrow road and along a swiftly running river to what looked like a farmhouse. It was there that I had to pay my entrance fee to be able to proceed to the falls. I was shown a map of the trail with brief instructions on a few details, such as, walk through the tunnel in order to proceed, at a couple of points. It was a beautiful day. Not too hot. 

I walked along the clearly marked path, down a road, through some pastures, past a camping area, and through some forests.  I came to the old abandoned tunnel that was built for a train that was never to arrive. I walked through it, as per instructions. 

A bit further, I came to a suspension bridge that brought me to a small secluded waterfall where I interrupted a young couple who looked a bit sheepish. I took a few pictures then slipped away to leave them to their privacy. 

Further along I came to a second tunnel. There was an arrow clearly indicating to proceed through. I knew that Santa Rita Falls were just beyond.  However, this tunnel was very dark and what I could see looked like a lot of water further in. I started to go through but it was just getting muddier and muddier.  The light coming in from either end of the tunnel seemed to swallow up the light from my cell phone flashlight. I nearly slipped in the muck. I wasn’t that anxious to slip and fall in a dark tunnel. I abandoned Santa Rita Falls and took an alternate route back to the starting point. It had taken me 2.5 hours. 

I was just in time to catch the bus back into town. If I had walked there and back from town, it would easily have taken me 4-5 hours. So much for Maurico’s 2 hour time frame. I paid 2000 COP (75 cents) for the bus ride. The driver was trying to give me change. I told him to keep it. It was worth it not to have to walk 2 km up a very steep and busy road! 

After the previous day’s long hike and today’s shorter hike, I spent the rest of the day at the guest house organizing Airbnb rooms and travel arrangements.  I think hiking is easier than travel arranging. 

12 February – Wednesday 

First thing in the morning we walked down to the bus station to buy our tickets to Medellin for the next day. The terminal is only open until 2:00 pm and the size of the bus that is sent is determined by the number of tickets pre-sold. 

We had a whole day with no plans.  Since we were in the heart of coffee country, in the world’s third highest producer of java, why not take a coffee tour! We bought a ticket at the same kiosk as for Cocora Valley. A fleet of Willy’s Jeeps were waiting to take people to six different coffee plantations.  We had no idea which one to take so we opted for the first one on the list. We jumped in one of the jeeps and off we went, down a rough dirt road. Honestly, a single pass with a grader would have done wonders for the road conditions in Colombia, but they seemed oblivious to driving over and around massive potholes.  A 20 minute ride later we were dropped off at Las Acacia Coffee Farm. 

There was a small group already assembled, with Jose as our guide. He was fantastic! He was very informative, interactive, and funny. We learned that Brazil is the #1 producer of coffee in the world. Vietnam is second. Colombia is third. And who is fourth? Who cares…. The best coffee is grown between 1500-2300 metres. There are 150 varieties of Arabica coffee in the world, Colombia has 5.  Gesha coffee is the most expensive. It takes three years for a coffee plant to begin producing coffee beans. They will produce for 20 years. They grow green beans and corn for a year before replanting coffee, to let the land rest and to bring back nutrients. They also grow blackberries and pineapple to supplement the farms income during the off season. It takes 6 kg of coffee cherries to produce 1 kg of beans. A GOOD picker can pick 150 kg per day. They are paid 500 Pecos (20 cents) per kg. That works out to $30/day.  Remember: a GOOD picker will do that. Many plantations hire Venezuelan workers for 10,000 COP per day ($4). Young people do not want to do this hard labour where the terrain is so steep a goat would have difficulty walking. The average age of pickers is over 50 years old. The coffee cherries do not all turn red (ripe) at the same time. The bushes must be harvested every 20 days in order to collect everything. After 20 days the red cherry will fall and start to grow a new bush. This is how the plantation can check the quality of the pickers. If too many little bushes start to grow in between the big ones, someone is not picking everything. 

Jose gave us a small basket and told us to go pick. As I said earlier, the terrain is extremely steep. We had a hard time finding stable footing. We were sliding down in between the bushes.  The bushes are taller than I expected. Jose said the pickers use bamboo ladders to reach the top ones. Between the dozen of us we picked so little that Jose said we wouldn’t even get a cup of coffee out of it. He then carefully inspected each bean before handing us each one. He told us to bite into it and taste it. It was sort of sweet, with an ever so slight bitterness.  The reason he had inspected each bean was to check for worms that get into the bean and eat it, making it useless. He collected all of our spit-out beans to be planted. 

He then took us to the processing area. On the way we passed a pen with a goat, Paulina, desperately trying to reach the proverbial greener grass on the other side of the fence. Jose said that Paulina will be the guest of honour at Christmas dinner. “Eat, Paulina! Get fat!” 

Jose took our meager basket of coffee cherries and dumped them in what looked like a hammer-mill. (A farming machine that is used to grind up dried grain into an edible granola-like consistency for livestock.) He turned the crank a few times and the bean came out one side and the cherry flesh came out the other. He said they compost the fleshy stuff. Some plantations dry it and make flour out of it. 

The beans are then washed to get any remaining fleshy fruit off. It is at this point that any beans that have been chewed by the worm float to the top and skimmed off. These sub-quality beans are still dried and roasted, and used in instant coffee. (That just turned me off instant coffee for the rest of my life!) The premium quality beans are dried in the sun – not in a dehydrator. They are laid out on huge drawers that can be tucked away should it rain.

They are checked again, by hand, for any worm infested beans. Those beans are black. The good beans are a light tan colour.  The dried beans are then sold. The buyer roasts them to their own consumer specifications. The darker the bean, the longer and higher the roasting temperature, and the lesser the caffeine content. The lighter it is roasted, the higher the caffeine content. The exact opposite of what I thought.     

Our tour included a cup of their premium coffee. While we were enjoying our coffee, Jose was gathering another group.  We jokingly asked if we could join him again. He was one of the best tour guides I have ever had the pleasure of having. Thank you, Jose! 

We walked out to the road and waited for a jeep to come by and take us back to town. During the course of the ride, I struck up a conversation with Linda, a woman from the Czech Republic, who runs a restaurant in Frankfurt with two other fellows, who were also travelling with her. They had some great travel destination tips.  Once back in town, we headed for a small restaurant we had spied earlier. Who should come in behind us? The same trio from the jeep ride. We all sat together and swapped travel ideas. She gave me the name of their restaurant in Frankfurt – Prager Botschaft. 

Back at the guest house we washed some clothes and hung them outside to dry in the sun. Everything was dry very quickly. We packed up and prepared for our bus ride to Medellin the next morning. 

13 February – Thursday 

Maurico said he would give us a ride in his tuktuk to the bus station. He would have to take us one at a time. Fine. He took Ed first because I wasn’t quite ready. 3 minutes later Maurico was back. Strange. The station was a kilometre away. It should have taken longer. He said the tuktuk did not have the power to go up the hill toward the square, and he dropped Ed off to walk the rest. The hill up to the square was about 200 metres from the guest house. He did the same with me. Strange that he was able to make that hill when he took me to the waterfall start point.  As I said earlier, I didn’t trust his word. Thankfully, once past the square it was all downhill. 

We got on our bus, slightly smaller than a Greyhound bus, and settled in for our 7.5 hour ride to Medellin.  The seats were narrow, but they did recline, and we had plenty of leg room. Normally, buses in South America are notorious for cranking the air conditioning to the point of a refrigerator. This one was OK.  In fact, it could have been a bit cooler. 

Colombia is mountainous. The roads are narrow and very winding. The drivers are used to these road conditions and drive a lot faster than I would attempt.  Because of this zigzagging along switchbacks, our stomachs got a bit queasy. Thankfully, we were forewarned by my son, Len, and we had stocked up on Gravol.  We reached the South Bus Terminal in Medellin mid-afternoon. By the time we reached our guest house and settled in, we were knackered. The guest house was directly above a restaurant. Too easy. We had some dinner, found a place to buy some water, and called it a night. I think we were in bed, lights out by 8:30 pm.